textfiles/sex/EROTICA/W/wildrose.txt

                                           Wild Roses

Philadelphia 1795

 "Hello, Handsome Jack,"  Vera Wells called when her stepson shuffled into
her private sitting room.  And indeed, he was handsome with his black
hair, green eyed good looks.  Vera wondered now, as she often did, what
life would be like in four years when Jack grew into a man's proportions
and appetites.  The answer which slid into her mind was worth savoring,
for Mrs. Wells was a young woman of voluptuous sensibilities.
  
 "Your passionate nature is only to be expected," her husband often
teased, referring to Vera's flame colored hair, "and it is one of your
charms, my dear, even though I may end up in an early grave as a result."

 Vera despised it when Ben said such things because she loved him dearly
-- a fact which complicated her emotions surrounding his only son.  The
little girls, Anne and Sally, were easy to love.  Not that thirteen
year-old Jack wasn't.  It was just that now and then Vera's feelings for
her step-son tipped away from safely maternal into something else.  He was
a darling, intelligent boy and when he was charming to her, she could see
exactly how he would be when he was grown, how he would win the hearts of
many women, and these images titillated Vera's already overactive
imagination. 
 
 Little did Mrs. Wells know that the fantasies in which she occasionally
indulged were a blink of an eye compared to time Jack spent conjuring her,
always late at night, after the house was asleep.  His hand would steal
beneath his covers, while wicked, lusty thoughts crowded in his mind.  By
morning, however, he could behave as the cheery, dutiful son he was.  No
mooning, no cow eyes, for Jack was not an intense or complex boy.  He knew
his father's new wife was an adult while he was still a child.  That there
would be a time in his life where the difference in their ages might not
seem so great did not occur to him, for Jack lived entirely in the moment.

 This was one moment, however, that he would have gladly skipped by if he
could, but the headmaster at Bullis Academy made certain that was
impossible.  So it was with trepidation Jack approached his young step
mother at her desk.

 "Is something wrong, dear?"  Vera pushed aside the letter she'd been
writing and focused on the flushed, downcast face before her.

 In answer, the guilty boy dropped a folded paper along side the small
vase of blood red roses from Vera's garden.  She had a passion for the
flowers, attending to them with her own lovely hands, one of which now
plucked up the letter.
 
 With resigned anxiety, Jack watched as she scanned the incriminating
note.  He wouldn't have shown it to anyone if he could have helped it. 
However, his astute headmaster insisted Jack return the letter tomorrow
with a parent's signature added to the bottom acknowledging receipt. 
Forgery was not an option, as Jack's talents were many and varied but,
alas, did not include clever penmanship.

 At least his father was in Virginia, the boy thought with some measure of
relief.  Yes, he could expect to be whipped upon Benjamin Well's return
but by then, the slight throb in his backside would be gone.  He would not
have to endure a strapping on top of the swats which he'd already taken
today.  And hearty swats they had been, only three, thank goodness, but
Jack was still very aware of his smarting flesh.  The school's headmaster
was young and virile, with an infamous swing.

 "Your father will punish you severely for this prank when he returns,"  a
sweet but firm voice cut into Jack's thoughts.

 "Yes,"  Was all he could say as he fixed his gaze upon the tips of his
shoes.

 "Unless you would prefer to take a spanking from me now."

 The boy's eyes flew to her face.  Never, ever had he considered such an
option.  Yes, since she had married his father last year, Vera had taken
each his sisters to task on several occasions in a way that left them sore
and sorry.  And though Jack had never actually witnessed his step-mother
administering a spanking, he had overheard Sally's squeals of distress
last month from behind the nursery door.  Later he'd convinced his sister
to show him her ten-year-old bottom.  Sally obliged and Jack had been
impressed; one hour after the punishment, her little fanny was still as
red as the roses their step-mother adored.

 "She only used her hand?"  Jack asked.

 "Yes,"  answered his sister while rubbing one tender flank.  "But Jackie,
she spanked hard."

 Not as hard as their father, not with his superior male strength and his
wicked leather belt, she couldn't possibly spank that hard, Jack said at
the time and thought to himself now.   Even the way Mama said "spanking"
had none of the ominous ring that his father's term "strapping" or worse,
"whipping," foretold.  Jack's choice was an easy one.

 "But I have already felt headmaster's paddle today, ma'am,"  he pointed
out, just for argument's sake.

 "Yes, I know."  Vera tapped the note before her.  "But I suppose the
double effect will make the punishment closer to what your father would
mete out."

 "Couldn't you punish me tomorrow, mother?  It'll be Saturday and--"

 "No,"  Vera stated simply.  "You may have a spanking now or wait for your
father's return next week.  Those are your choices."

 The boy took no time in delivering his answer, lest she change her mind. 
"I'd prefer not to put it off."

 She nodded and set the headmaster's note aside.  "I will sign this when
you and I are finished,"  she told him as she stood and moved her chair
from behind the desk.  "Go shut the door, if you please."

 Yes, he did please.  He did not want his sisters or the servants to
overhear this humiliating little scene.  After closing the door tightly,
Jack turned back to his step mother and was struck again by her regal
beauty.  As the sun coursed through the window behind her, it picked out
the golden pinpoints in her piled copper hair.
 
 The boy's heart tore through his body as the moment became more real for
him.   He could not deny the tremor of pleasure unfolding his belly, nor
the tickling heat of his loins.
  
   "Jack, take down your trousers and your drawers,"  Vera directed.

 His drawers?  Yes, his father whipped him bare bottomed, but never had
this lovely angel seen him undressed!  His mouth opened to protest but she
cut him off before a sound was issued.

 "If you do not do as I tell you, young man, I will send Carter for your
father's razor strop.  Do you understand me?"  She stood behind the small
desk chair, her cinnamon eyes glittering, her will indomitable.  Jack was
stunned into obedience.

 As he stumbled forward, fumbling with the buttons on his pants, Vera
opened the desk drawer and drew out a wide wooden ruler which she set
meaningfully on the desk.  She pulled her chair just a little closer, so
the ruler would be in easy reach and turned to survey the progress her
step-son was making.  Not much.  Jack stood clutching the waistband of his
trousers, regarding the ruler with horror and finally shifting his eyes
accusingly to Vera as she settled on the chair.

 Without a word she grabbed him by a wrist, dragging the sturdy boy
towards her.  "Drop them, Jack,"  she commanded as she pulled his hands
from his waistband.  His trousers fell to his knees and Vera had a moment
to admire his fine young legs.  Already definition of muscle played across
his thighs, though they were almost as hairless as her own. 

 Slipping cool fingers under Jack's shirt, Vera gripped the top of his
underdrawers and, with a yank, they too puddled round feet.  The boy was
now painfully embarrassed, which was easy to ascertain from the bright
color that adorned his high cheekbones...  a look any woman would envy. 
Without a drop of sympathy, Vera lifted her son's shirt all the way up to
his belly and pressed his hand there to hold it.  His penis was semi-erect
and she was pleased to note that it was of good size. 

 Vera did not dawdle over her inspection of him, though she would have
liked to.  It would never do to have the boy suspect this encounter was
anything but a chore for her.  With an exasperated sigh she patted her
knee.  "Over you go, darling,"  she told him, while enjoying the buzz of
power she experienced at having such a handsome boy to command.

 He obeyed her instantly, clearly anxious to hide himself from her warm
brown gaze.  Vera made sure that Jack assumed the most vulnerable position
possible, tugging him forward an inch here, on the diagonal there... all
to let her son know who was controlling this situation.  She was only
satisfied once his hands splayed across the rug for support, his backside
balanced just over the edge of her right thigh, and his toes touched the
floor on the other side. 

 Jack's boyish bottom was then patted fondly by its future chastiser, with
particular attention paid to the band of throbbing pink that ran across
his otherwise peachy flesh.  These ministrations set his cheeks squirming
in panicky anticipation which resulted in one hard slap from his step
mother who enjoined him to "Keep your seat still.  No wiggling."
  
 How he was to accomplish that, he certainly couldn't guess.  Even if she
didn't proceed with the spanking, the feel his cock pressed into her silky
thighs was enough to make Jack writhe; while her hand, massaging his
already sore and sensitized rear, had him groaning under his breath. 

 Vera spent several minutes lecturing the red-faced boy while tracing her
fingers across her intended target, stopping every so often to pinch his
supple skin with repressed glee.  She even tickled the undercurve of one
cheek which had her victim clenching his buttocks, a sight which sent
Vera's mind lurching into randiness.  When Jack unconsciously thrust
himself into the folds of her dress, she nearly lost her breath from dizzy
excitement. 

 "Would you like your spanking now, Jackie?"  she finally whispered,
happily anticipating the act as much as her son was dreading it.

 "Yes, mama."  Came the strained mumble from a school boy humiliated and
titillated beyond anything his limited imagination had ever considered.

 Vera lifted her hand with practiced ease, allowing it to hover midair
while Jack's bottom played out a nervous dance of expectancy.  When she
brought her palm down hard on the boy's sweet bottom, she gasped with
pleasure, relishing the sting in her fingertips, the soft spongy feel of
his flesh and the small grunt Jack made of acknowledged contact.  A red
hand print appeared immediately on the boy's already pink cheek and Vera
struggled with the urge to lean forward and nip the mark with her teeth. 
Jack squirmed again, rubbing his thighs together in discomfort which was
in part due to the hardened state of his cock.  His movements shook Vera
back to her task and she wasted no more time in admiration but set about
briskly applying her palm to the buttocks before her.
 
 At first Jack resolved to accept this spanking with nary a cry.  His
manly notion was discarded when Vera's small hand proved quite efficient
at setting up a burn across his bottom.

 "Oh!  Oh!  Mother!''  he gasped softly, pressing his knees together even
more tightly to keep from kicking.

 Above him, Vera smirked as she roused this first distressed response from
her son.  She directed her hand with more vigor to his now glowing hind
quarters and almost chuckled when he began to toss his hips from side to
side.  His struggles were fierce, but Vera was a match for him.  She
anticipated his every shudder and sway, bracing him more firmly with her
left arm as she beat down upon his reddening bottom with gasping
determination.

 The writhing boy begged, his fanny now pumping up and down desperately,
"AHH!  MAMA!  NO!  NO!  NO!"
   
 "Yes.  Yes.  Yes,"  his mother muttered with each swat she delivered,
redoubling her efforts to concentrate on the very seat of Jack's naughty
bottom.  This had the boy hollering with displeasure.  And now he kicked
up his heels, just as his little sister had done a month ago, thrashing
his feet in the air, all modesty forgotten.

 "OHHH!  MOTHER!  I'LL NEVER DO SUCH A THING AGAIN!"  His fingers curled
into the rug, repentant tears poured down his flushed cheeks and his
beautiful mouth opened to form a perfect O, revealing the lusty pink
inside. 
 
 "MAMA!  I'M SORRY!"  Jack bellowed, his bottom pulsing fiendishly as the
woman above him continued her assault.  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!  Went her
dainty white hand, splatting each time on his crimson buttocks.  His toes
pounded the floor.  He bucked and sobbed, but Vera would not be deterred. 
She was going to deliver to this impertinent rear end every single spank
it had coming. 

 Her hand throbbed with the same fire she infused to Jack's bouncy flesh. 
Her arm ached, but still Vera would not quit.

 "MOMMY!  MOMMY!  NOOO!"  The boy's voice had become a high pitched shriek
of unhappiness.

 Perspiration beaded the woman's brow.  Spanking healthy young boys was
hard work, especially when one was determined to do a thorough job of it. 
Vera paused to catch her breath.  Jack continued to flail his coltish legs
and cry piteously as though her hand was still scalding his seat.  Again,
Vera resisted the urge to press her lips and tongue to the poor bottom
before her.  She reached for the ruler instead.

 "Jack, pay attention,"  she demanded.  The boy continued to struggle, so
she gave him a shake.  "Your spanking is almost over, young man."

 When a whine rose up from her lap, she gave him a smart THWACK of the
ruler across his thighs.  "Now, listen here, Jack.  I am going to give you
a bit more with the ruler."

 "NOO!  Please, Mama, I've had enough. I--"

 Another CRACK to the back of his legs ended that plea mid-sentence.
 "Now, son,  you've been very naughty, haven't you?"  she asked while
rubbing the polished wood back and forth over Jack's shuddering nates.

 "Y-yes."  Came the rueful response.

 "And what happens to naughty boys, Jack?"

 "T-they get spanked."

 "Yes and quite soundly too,"  Vera agreed in a brisk voice.  "Now, Jackie
darling, are you going to be a good boy for me from now on?"

 "Yes, mother,"  he moaned.

 "I thought so.  Because if you aren't..."  she warned.  "You will find
yourself spending a great deal of time over my knee, do you understand?"

 "Yes,"  said the miserable boy.
  
 "Are you ready for the last part of your spanking, love?"

 "Ah... yes..."  His answer was barely audible but it was enough for Vera.
 She raised the ruler high and brought it crashing down upon her son's
cringing buttocks.

 "AHHH!"  he squealed and squealed again when a second stroke descended in
exactly the same place.  She made short work of this final volley, working
her way inch by inch down his lively, wiggling cheeks and then back up,
until every scrap of flesh had tasted her ruler at least twice.  The owner
of that pair of thoroughly chastised buttocks was quite beside himself. 
He roared out his pain, struggling brutally to free himself from Vera's
vise like grip around his middle but she had the advantage of a better
position and so, held him in place until she deemed the spanking finished.

 When she finally let the howling boy rise, he sprang to his feet, took
his fanny in his hands and hopped up and down in an unmanly display of
agony.  His shirt tented out in front of him, as his cock stood stiffly to
attention.  Vera pretended not to notice this as she returned the ruler to
her desk drawer.  When she turned, however, and found Jack still standing
with pants around his ankles, holding his bottom and bawling like a small
child, she became cross.  With a quick movement, Vera had him by an ear.

 "Stop behaving like such a baby," she scolded.  "Pull up your trousers
and quiet down." 
 
 Hiccupping, Jack strove to comply.  His father had always whipped him in
his bedroom and left so that Jack could sob out his misery privately.  Now
he was forced to gain control of himself so that he could walk through the
large house, in front of all the servants and his sisters, simply to seek
out a some place to cry.  But that wasn't to be the case.  Instead, Vera
seated herself on the chair again and pulled Jack across her thighs,
upright this time.  He yelped as his bottom made contact with her lap, but
he quieted when she hugged him close and kissed his wet, flushed cheek. 
Even though she was the one who had set up the burn in his poor bottom,
Jack turned into her comforting embrace, buried his face in her neck and
breathed in her sweet smell.  It was a moment he was never to forget. 
And, for the rest of his life, whenever Jack caught a whiff of rose, his
buttocks would clench.